


Cinnamon Honey

by toffeecape



Series: Sandwich 'verse [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Rogers, Comeplay, Comfort No Hurt, Darcy Is Ceiling Cat, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Felching, Fireworks, Fluff and Smut, Hair Kink, Honeymoon, M/M, Married Sex, Medical Examination, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, POV Steve Rogers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Praise Kink, Rimming, Romantic Fluff, Schmoop, Sexual Roleplay, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2886578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toffeecape/pseuds/toffeecape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The newlywed adventures of two dirty old men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cinnamon Honey

**Author's Note:**

> Continues directly from the previous story, Giant Space Lobsters And A Wedding.

Steve leaned against the bar, letting it hold him up a little bit. He felt _good_. The last time he'd tried (and failed) to get drunk, he'd just lost Bucky, and was trying to blunt the edge of his agony before it sawed him to pieces. Now he was outside of a fair bit of Asgardian beer, feeling boneless and expansive, like he wanted to hug everyone in the room at once, and Bucky...

Bucky was just a few feet away, dancing up a storm - his current partner was Bruce. He was down to his undershirt and suspenders, glowing with sweat. His hair was escaping its once-neat ponytail to fly around his face, which was lit by the same joy Steve felt. The image of Steve's shield gleamed on his left shoulder, and the gold ring Steve put on him glinted on his left hand.

His husband. Steve could hardly believe it.

Tony made his way towards Bucky and Bruce, moving with more determination than steadiness. He said something to Bucky that made him blink and look to Steve, and Tony gave him a gentle shove and started dancing with Bruce himself.

Bucky rushed at Steve and leapt into his arms, coiling his legs around Steve's waist and his arms behind Steve's neck. Steve staggered under the sudden, solid weight, and the onslaught of lavish kisses. He cradled Bucky's back and gave as good as he got, head starting to spin.

"What brought this on?"

"Couldn't remember the last time I kissed you." Bucky swirled his tongue thoroughly around the inside of Steve's mouth; they both tasted of the beer, with its strange notes of flowers and fruit ( _like_ apples, but somehow emphatically _not_ apples).

"That's because you're- ohh! Because you're drunk," Steve said breathlessly, a hot shiver going through him as Bucky craned his neck and nipped at his ear, filling it with his warm breath.

"And you're not? That ain't my back, Rogers." Oh. Hmm. At some point, Steve's hands had drifted down to grope Bucky's ass. He kneaded the plush, warm flesh automatically, watching Bucky's eyes darken with every squeeze, until he bent to Steve's ear again and growled, "D'you have any idea what I wanna do to you?"

"None," Steve bullshitted, "you better tell me."

Bucky grinned, and gave an abrupt little twist-and-yank with his hips that had them falling to the floor and rolling behind the bar. Steve wound up on his side, tucked up against Bucky where he lay on his back. Bucky laced his fingers behind his head, looking vastly pleased with himself.

Steve propped himself up on one elbow and sucked on Bucky's lower lip, nipping it gently before licking into his mouth. All the while, he rucked up Bucky's shirt and caressed his belly, then tried to slip his hand under Bucky's waistband, before giving it up as a bad job and just cupping Bucky's cock through his pants. Bucky hummed and rolled his hips into the touch, hands coming out from behind his head to yank Steve on top of him by his lapels.

Their lips parted with a soft smack. "You were saying?" Steve reminded him.

Bucky looked less smug and more dazed, but he still managed to keep his voice smooth as he said, "Wanna put my hands on you, baby, bring you off a couple times, just for starters." He unbuttoned Steve's shirt and stroked up and down Steve's waist, one hand warm and one cool. "Dunno if I wanna suck you while I finger you, or jerk you off and then clean you up with my tongue, but it's gonna be my left fingers up inside you, doll. I know you love how hard they feel, you open up for them so sweet."

Steve could feel himself blushing already, but he couldn't be bothered to care, not with Bucky's words sparking in his blood, most of which was rushing to his cock so fast he felt light-headed. He ground down against Bucky, who was plenty hard himself, and said shakily, "Yeah? What then?"

"Well," Bucky said, "then I think I wanna make you ride me." Steve's opened jacket and shirt hung down around them both, concealing his hands as he reached into Steve's pants. Steve's suit wasn't as tailored as Bucky's, so he was able to do so easily, taking Steve's cock in one hand and grabbing his ass with the other. "Get you sitting in my lap, all spread open." He jerked Steve slowly, lightly, matching the teasing fingers he slipped into Steve's crack. "Wanna see you fuck yourself, pretty baby, bouncing up and down, giving yourself my dick, mmm, yeah." He gave Steve's cock a firmer stroke with a twist at the top, brushing his fingertips over Steve's hole at the same time, and Steve came just like that, burying his face in Bucky's neck to muffle his gasps.

"Goddamn," Bucky said wonderingly, "goddamn, sweetheart, I guess you like the sound of that plan?"

"Yeah, Bucky," Steve panted, "that sounds-"

"Hot!" Darcy pronounced, looking down at them from where she was leaning over the bar. Bucky jerked; Steve looked up in horror, then hid his face again. "Are you gonna do that right here? Because I for one would not object."

"Miss Lewis!" Bucky said, obviously scrambling for a reply.

"Oh, no. If you two don't promise to finally call me Darcy from now on, I'm gonna yell for every guest still sober enough to come over here. And if you _do_ promise, I'll cover your escape."

They promised fervently, and Darcy bounded up onto the coffee table with a whoop. Steve and Bucky skulked out, Steve's undone jacket and shirttails doing little to hide the dark patch on the front of his pants.

Safe in the elevator, Bucky broke into snickers that infected Steve too, until they were leaning on each other, which turned into kissing up against the door, which opened so abruptly they nearly fell into the hallway on their floor. Steve could almost feel JARVIS' exasperation, for all that the AI hadn't said a word. He dragged Bucky down the hall to their suite by his suspenders.

Safely inside, Bucky spun him around and shoved him onto their enormous L-shaped couch. Steve went easily, sprawling and stretching on his back, showing off a little for Bucky, who stared at him wide-eyed, squeezing at his own crotch with his metal hand. This was Bucky trying to focus himself, pull together the resources to do something more than fling himself at Steve like an animal. Sometimes Steve wanted exactly that and interrupted him, but the results of Bucky's focus were - pretty great, generally.

Still, enough was enough. Steve ran his hands over his torso, rumpling his clothes even further, and said breathily, "Thought you were gonna touch me, Buck."

Bucky made a pitiful strangled noise, and nearly ripped Steve's pants getting them off. He dropped to his knees on the carpet, burying his face in Steve's crotch.

"God," he groaned, "you made such a mess, baby. You're all _wet_ and _hot_ , I can't-" he cut himself off to lick Steve's cock clean, breathing in heavily through his nose and moaning all the while. Steve squirmed, equal parts embarrassed and aroused. Aroused won out when Bucky looked up and, never taking his eyes off Steve's, reached up and stuck two fingers in Steve's mouth. Steve swirled his tongue around them, shuddering at the flavor and careful flex of Bucky's metal joints.

"Looks like I get both," Bucky said.

"Hmm?"

"I get to lick you off _and_ suck you." With that, he took his hand back, and started rubbing Steve's asshole with a fingertip at the same time as he took the head of Steve's cock into his mouth. Steve thumped his head back against the couch, breathing out a long, shivery sigh as his muscles - already loose from the booze and the first orgasm - gave easily for Bucky. There was a single hard finger working all the way in by the time Steve's cock bumped into the back of Bucky's throat, the base held firmly in Bucky's right hand.

"Bucky," he murmured, "Bucky, that feels so good." He was already starting to drift, as if he was three orgasms in instead of just one; that would be the drink. Bucky hummed and sucked wetly at his cock, sliding his finger in and out of Steve's ass. Steve moaned quietly and rolled his head from side to side as Bucky stoked his need higher and higher. He buried his fingers in Bucky's long, soft hair, pulling the last of it free of the ponytail.

"More," he pleaded, lifting his hips. "C'mon, Buck, gimme another? I-" his face heated, "I need it."

"Mmph!" said Bucky, and gave Steve another finger all at once. Steve arched his back, panting at the burning stretch that was exactly what he wanted, and not near enough. Bucky's mouth on his cock, Bucky's fingers inside him, Bucky working Steve over like an instrument he may as well have built himself he knew it so well; it was so old and familiar, and still so incredibly, shatteringly good.

"Bucky, Bucky," Steve chanted, past all embarrassment now, tugging at Bucky's hair. "One more, I need one more, h-hurry - ohh!" Bucky gave him what he needed, like he always did: three fingers, pushed in deep, stroking straight for his prostate and then twisting and spreading, letting Steve feel how hard they were, how strong. Opening Steve up.

All at once the molten rush in Steve's abdomen flooded his whole body, and he shook as he came in Bucky's mouth, Bucky sucking hard and swallowing him down, gentling when Steve flinched. Finally he made his mouth completely soft and lifted off slowly, letting Steve's cock - still half-hard - land on his belly.

"You're smilin' like the cat that got the cream," said Steve.

Bucky's smile widened. "I sure did, babe," he said, and licked his lips. Steve chuckled; he'd stepped right into that one. The chuckles turned into a whine as Bucky withdrew his fingers. Bucky patted his belly.

"I got you, sweetheart. Just makin' good on my promise, here." He shimmied out of his remaining clothes, then pushed and shoved until he was the one lying on his back on the couch, with Steve straddling his hips.

"Had this in my pocket," he said, brandishing a packet of lube with a wink.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "And yet you used spit on me."

Bucky shrugged. "Gets you hot to lick my fingers. Gets _me_ hot, too, darlin', the way you get 'em all slippery- holy hell!" His smug litany was cut off when Steve slicked him up with a couple of long strokes. "S-speaking of," he rallied, clutching Steve's hips as Steve got Bucky lined up and started to sink down on him.

Steve kept his eyes locked on Bucky's. His mouth fell open when the head of Bucky's cock popped inside the ring of muscle. For all Bucky's thorough prep, it still felt huge, thick and hot. "Perfect," he whispered helplessly. He braced his shaky hands behind him on Bucky's thighs.

"Nah," Bucky said, looking up at Steve with a goofy smile, "that's you, babydoll. You- uhhh!" He grunted when Steve rocked back, taking a good half of Bucky's length inside himself in one go. Steve's head fell back, and he started breathing harder; it felt like his body was rearranging itself around the blunt, solid shape. Bucky rubbed Steve's sides, long firm strokes up and down. "Just look at you," Bucky continued, sounding hoarse, "making yourself take it, love, there ain't words for how you look right now."

Steve felt beyond words himself, reduced to gasps and sighs as he pulled up a little and then sat down farther, taking more with every pass. He must have done it three or four times before he was finally resting his entire weight on Bucky's lap, the whole of Bucky's cock buried deep in his ass.

"Amazing," Bucky told him, "you're so good, baby. So good." Steve ducked his head, leaning forward and splaying his hands on Bucky's chest. Bucky covered them with his own, squeezing briefly, and then moved to thumb Steve's nipples.

"Ah! Bucky!" The stimulation shivered through him, and he twitched his hips. It felt so good he had to do it again, and just like that Steve was off, rearing back and bouncing gently on Bucky's dick, a steady stream of quiet moans falling out of his mouth.

Not that Steve could be heard over Bucky's patter, which was in full swing, and taking on the extravagant edge that indicated he was losing voluntary control. "There you go, love, you work yourself just how you like it. Fuck, you look good up there, like a fuckin' angel, baby, come down to get yourself stuffed full of cock." He heaved himself up and reached around with his right hand, fingering Steve's asshole where it was stretched wide. Steve bent down for a kiss, keening into Bucky's mouth as the new position put more direct pressure on Steve's prostate.

Bucky braced his forehead against Steve's, and gripped Steve's hip with his metal hand, urging him to fuck himself harder and faster. "Your cock is drooling, you know that, doll? Getting so wet it's stuck to you; you're gonna pop without even being touched, ain'tcha?"

"I- oh! Oh, Bucky, maybe," Steve managed. Sweat was rolling down his back, and the couch was shaking with how hard he was pushing himself onto Bucky, who thrust up to meet him as best he could, pinned as he was by Steve's thighs.

"Definitely. You're turning the prettiest shade of pink all over, love that color, sweetheart. Makes your eyes look even bluer, where they're gettin' all round, like it surprises you every time how much you love - getting - fucked," he timed his last words with Steve's bouncing, fast enough now to make smacking noises of skin on skin. Steve cried out and trembled; it was true, he did forget how good this was, probably because if he didn't he would never, ever do anything else.

"Yeah, doll, you're close, you're right on the edge, I can tell. You know why I can tell?" Bucky cupped Steve's pec in his left hand and rolled the nipple between his hard fingertips until Steve whined. "It's like you said back there, when you married me in front of God and everyone. What'd you say, Stevie?" With his right hand, he rubbed Steve's slick, tight rim expectantly.

"Ah! God! I s-said," Steve shuddered, feeling lit from the inside out, and forced himself to meet Bucky's burning eyes, "you know me."

"I know you," Bucky agreed. "Come for me, love." He shoved a finger into Steve's ass alongside his cock. Steve's vision went white, a moan tore out of him that felt like it started in his toes, and he came so hard he got some on his own neck.

After, he folded over onto Bucky's chest, broad as his own and considerably stronger at the moment. Bucky held Steve's hips and thrust up into him raggedly, muttering, "Gonna be peaches and cream here, wanna have you for dessert, eat you up my sweet baby boy, get my - fuck! - my tongue in you, oh fuck fuck fuck _Stevie_!" He shoved up particularly hard, and Steve made a token effort to grind down, and Bucky groaned and pulsed in Steve's ass, hanging on tightly to Steve's hips.

They lay together while they caught their breath. At length Steve levered himself up enough to plant a kiss on Bucky's lips; Bucky returned it, patting his ass vaguely.

Steve became aware that he was going from hot and sweaty to chilled and sticky. "Shower?"

"God, yes," said Bucky. Steve rolled off, grimacing as Bucky slipped out of him, and then again when he realized where they were. "This couch may never be the same."

Bucky shrugged. "It's got that, whaddyacallit, Scotchgard. It's lasted this long."

"True." Steve wondered whether Tony'd had the couch treated before they moved in, just for them, or if every piece of furniture in the Tower was like that by default, because Tony. He decided he'd rather leave it a mystery.

In the shower, Steve found he was still feeling a little drunk, handsy and snuggly. Of course, that could also be due to getting spectacularly laid.

Bucky looked up from where Steve was soaping his armpit for him, fighting a grin. "Really, baby? Again?"

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ , you're all over me like you need to go off a fourth time, is what I mean."

"Can't a fella just grope his husband in the shower?" The word thrilled Steve more than he thought it would. Judging by the way the two spots on his cheeks turned pink, Bucky felt about the same.

"He can, but this fella's gotta make sure he's doing his husbandly duty. Turn and spread 'em, Captain." Steve obeyed, leaning a shoulder against the wall of the shower and pulling his cheeks apart, twisting to look back at Bucky. Bucky dropped to a squat and peered closely at Steve's hole, and Steve's breathing sped up again at the intense, gleeful interest on Bucky's face.

"You're all pink and puffy, Stevie baby," Bucky announced, "I wonder if you're still soft and open, too?" Bucky touched him lightly with a fingertip, and Steve shivered and felt some of Bucky's come slip out of him. Bucky let out a heartfelt groan.

"You're all messy, darlin', messy inside with my come. Think I'd better clean you up." He leaned in and licked at Steve's hole, and Steve moaned despairingly at the bolt of lust that slammed through him. His dick _hurt_ as it got hard again, his balls aching as they drew up, his nipples tightening to little thorns.

"Bucky," he said brokenly, shifting his feet.

Bucky looked up at him. "Just keep holding yourself open for me, just like you're doing, that's so good, sweetheart. I'm gonna take care of you, promise." He reached around and took Steve's cock tenderly in his right hand, bracing himself with his left hand on Steve's thigh. Steve tightened his grip on his asscheeks and held himself open like Bucky asked, his breath hitching as Bucky's tongue flickered and probed, high little cries escaping him when Bucky pressed his lips tight and sucked.

He couldn't hear Bucky over his own voice and the sound of the shower, but he could feel the rumble of his hums and moans - and, hell, knowing Bucky, probably more of his unstoppable sex-talk - against his skin, _inside_ his skin, vibrating through his body. Muffled by it, because Bucky was _licking his own come out of Steve's ass_ , and pulling Steve's cock so carefully, unspooling the thread of Steve's pleasure with sweet precision.

Steve came almost gently this time, with loud sighs and long, smooth clenches into Bucky's hand. When Bucky released him his legs gave out, and he fell to his knees. Bucky raised his come-covered hand to his come-smeared face and licked it off slowly, tonguing thoroughly between his fingers.

"Steve," he rasped, gathering Steve into his arms. Steve clung to his slippery shoulders, completely undone. "Steve, baby, I think I could go again." He was, indeed, hard again between them, his hips moving in short, exhausted twitches.

Steve thought, sluggishly, and then stuck his hand in Bucky's lap. He fondled his balls for a moment, and then gripped his cock and moved his hand with as much coordination as he could muster.

Bucky laughed. "Mm! Yeah, I'm about fucked out myself. Just got- uh!- a second wind eating you out, sweetheart, the way- hha!- you go crazy for it makes _me_ crazy."

"The come thing is all you," Steve interrupted, giving the head of Bucky's dick a little twist on the upstroke to hear him grunt, then amended, "Okay. Mostly you."

"I was gonna say," Bucky panted, fucking Steve's fist like he meant business, "I _know_ I've made you- oh, fuck!- come in your pants by sh-shooting a load in your mouth before. Pretty mouth, pretty everything, my gorgeous babydoll, oh my God c'mere." He took Steve's face in his hands and kissed him, thrusting his tongue into Steve's mouth, where Steve sucked it, and swallowed Bucky's harsh moan as he came again. He planted a series of smaller kisses on Steve's face as he recovered: cheeks, eyelids, nose.

"Dunno how you walk after popping so many times, darlin'. I never wanna move again."

"I often don't," Steve pointed out from where he was practically sitting in Bucky's lap. "That's what's so nice about sex in a bed."

"Mmm. Bed." Bucky nuzzled into Steve's neck like he could go to sleep right there, but couldn't stop himself from adding, "Water, then bed. Dunno if Thor's hooch causes hangovers, but I'd rather not find out."

Of course, water turned into snacks turned into wiping down the couch before everything dried, but eventually they really were bundled into bed, arms and legs tangled together like a single confused octopus. Steve might have cracked a teddy bear joke, if he hadn't been holding onto Bucky just as tight.

* * *

 

Steve was more than seventy years out from his last hangover, but he was pretty sure he didn't have one when it didn't hurt to be woken up by the morning sun in his face. Between the light on his skin, and Bucky spooned up behind him, he could have been too hot, except that both he and Bucky had arrived in the 21st century with an abiding hatred of the cold. Instead, he drank in the heat greedily, stretching like a cat.

When Steve shifted, Bucky tightened his arm around Steve's chest, pulling him tight enough to feel Bucky's erection digging into his ass. Now there was an idea.

Steve snaked out an arm and retrieved the lube off the nightstand, then rubbed his feet against Bucky's shins.

"Bucky, hey, wake up."

Bucky grunted.

"C'mon, Buck, I'm in need here." Steve ground his butt back against Bucky, grinning; he knew how Bucky would take that if he was awake enough to parse it.

"The _hell_ you say!" Bucky sounded both incredulous and indignant, but he also snatched the lube from Steve and gave him an unceremonious blurt right in the crack of his ass. "You are one spoiled punk," Bucky told him, poking two fingers at once inside.

Steve groaned happily. "Been working for us so far; why quit now? C'mon and spoil me some more."

Bucky scissored his fingers briskly, stretching Steve where his muscles had already tightened up again overnight. Steve clapped a hand to Bucky's hip behind him, urging him forward. He panted through the burn when Bucky took the hint and started fucking into him earlier than he usually would.

"Oh, wow, you're so tight, sweetheart. Makin' me open you up with my cock, too eager to wait, Jesus Christ." Bucky eased himself inside with a few short, slow thrusts, until he was seated right to the hilt, then said, low, "This okay?"

"Yeah. _Yeah_." Bucky’s heat radiating against his back, part of his body inside Steve’s, the sun baking full on Steve’s front: he felt full to the brim with the perfection of it all. Then Bucky grabbed Steve’s hair and set his teeth in Steve’s neck, and Steve shivered. With his other hand Bucky reached around for Steve’s dick, shifted his hips away, and then pulled Steve back to meet him as he thrust in. He bit down on Steve’s neck at the same time, and Steve felt himself starting to overflow. No one could contain this much joy, no one.

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, yes, please, Bucky,” he chanted as Bucky really started to give it to him, fucking hard and fast, jacking him in time, grunting with effort against the skin of Steve’s neck. Coming was like speeding his motorcycle up a ramp for a jump; Steve sucked in one huge whoop of air and then he was flying, weightless, Bucky setting him tumbling with the pushes and pulls he never let up on throughout.

He was still going by the time Steve’s head cleared enough to register it again. At some point he’d given up biting Steve’s neck, in favor of just gripping Steve’s hair in his fist, which had acquired a barely-perceptible tremor. Between kisses to Steve’s jaw, Bucky murmured, “Hell of a way to wake up, doll.”

“What- oh! - what can I say? You- hnngh! - you inspired me.” The feeling of aftershocks echoing through his body at the same time as the coiling tension of another orgasm was indescribable. Bucky’s hand on Steve’s cock was as relentless as the slide of his cock in and out of Steve’s ass. Steve was skipping like a stone across water.

He wanted Bucky to come with him this time. He pushed his pleasure-muddled mind to find the words. “You turn me on so much, Buck. All- uh! - all the time.”

Bucky groaned. “You keep that up and I ain’t gonna last much longer, baby.”

“Want that. Wanna feel you come - know it’ll set me off again.” Steve was worked up enough he could say it without hesitating, but it was no small task to make sense instead of just moaning. Jesus, sex-talk was difficult.

For Steve, anyway; Bucky had a smile in his voice as he said, “That so, darlin’? You want me to finish all snugged up inside you, spill my come in your greedy hole? Christ almighty, baby boy, ain’t _nothing_ hotter than how much you need me to fill you up.”

Steve whimpered, his whole body drawing tight like Bucky’s voice was pulling wires inside him. “Bucky!”

“Give it to you morning, noon, and night,” Bucky ranted, “any time, any place, do you so hard we can’t stand up no more, and then so sweet we just melt away like cotton candy. Nothing left of us but my arm and a wet spot.”

Teetering on the edge, Steve gasped out, “And my ring.”

“Fucking-shit-goddamn-hell!” Bucky shouted, hips and hands jerking raggedly, and Steve went over with him, laughing.

* * *

 

They went back down to the common floor to make hangover breakfast for their wedding guests. Clint, Natasha, Sam, Lady Sif, and Darcy had apparently partied so hearty they didn’t even make it back to their rooms, instead dropping more or less in their tracks in the living room. Natasha glared at them out of one slitted eyelid from where she had her head pillowed on Clint’s chest. They tiptoed back into the kitchen, turned the coffee maker on, and started making omelettes (Bucky) and fruit salad (Steve).

"You know," said Steve, "At some point I need to learn how to cook, with heat, like an adult."

Bucky squinted at him. "You tried to make soup out of a bread heel. The water lit itself on fire to stop you."

"That is not what happened, and anyway it was in 1941, for crying out loud."

"On. Fire. Be grateful for the toaster privileges you've got." Steve grumbled and made a stack of _perfect_ toast, thank you very much.

At length the smells of coffee and food drew people off the erstwhile dance floor and into the kitchen. There was a lot of quiet eating and slow blinking. The others straggled in gradually. An unsurprisingly bright-eyed Bruce took over Bucky's spatula and started turning out egg dishes heavy on avocado and peppers.

Clint downed a glass of pickle juice and cracked his neck. "So, fellas, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about: once your marriage is filed, more likely than not it'll get out to the press, along with the fact that you're," he gestured to Bucky, "um, alive."

"You may want to lay low until the next celebrity breakup or whatever," said Sam.

Tony put in, "I was serious about my offer last night: Tropical. Island."

Steve was watching Bucky, and saw how his eyebrows shot up at Tony's suggestion.

He faced the table. "I think we'll take you up on that," said Steve slowly, "but we need to make a day trip first." He looked at Bucky again. "There are a couple of people, if they found out from the news instead of from us, they'd have our guts for garters."

* * *

It was all of four hours from New York to Washington, D.C. via motorcycle. They went to the Georgetown campus first, finding the right lecture hall just in time. It was surprisingly packed, given that it was the summer semester. Someone sitting near them expressed the same surprise aloud.

"Lots of people stuck around or came back just to take this class," Steve heard another student say.

"I don't doubt it. He had a heart attack during my second year? And he was back two days later, swearing at the projector and then louder when he remembered his microphone was on," laughed someone else.

The excited buzz in the hall faded to a hush when the professor walked in, leaning on a cane. Steve could see the lump of a pacemaker under his thin, pristine white shirt, and he was bald as an egg, but Gabe Jones' flashing smile was the same as ever.

"My ducklings!" he wheezed grandly. "Welcome to the summer session of Linguistics 452: Language Acquisition and Retention by Adult Learners. I'm Professor Jones-"

" _Emeritus_ Professor," someone whispered to their neighbour.

"-and this course is one of my favorites. Children acquire languages almost by accident, just by being exposed to them, but for adults it's a deliberate choice, and, usually, a lot of work."

"How an adult learns a language is going to be shaped by _why_ they learn it. An immigrant learning English for work, a parent learning ASL for their deaf child, a music fan learning Korean because they just love K-pop _that much_ ; all these people are going to wind up with very different vocabularies, and use them in very different settings." As he spoke, Gabe flipped through PowerPoint slides with photos matching up to what he was saying; there were titters when a screenshot from 'Gangnam Style' appeared.

"I started out at Howard learning German, because I wanted to understand the crazy shit- excuse me, crazy _stuff_ coming out of that country. Three semesters later, I decided to hell with it; it was obvious we were headed for another war, and if I was gonna die over there I wanted to have _fun_ first. So I switched to French, because the girls were much cuter." Slide of Gabe, dancing with a woman, her bobbed hair gleaming in meticulously relaxed waves. Both of them looked painfully young.

"Then I went over there, and sure, the German came in handy, but the _French_ is how I met the guy who became the demolitions expert for the Howling Commandos, and one of the best friends I ever had: Jacques Dernier." Slide of Dernier, beaming, with his arms full of explosives. Beside Steve, Bucky caught his breath. Gabe sounded a little hoarse as he continued.

"Which is an example of a factor affecting retention: once an adult learns a language, they're going to remember best the parts they use the most. Other factors affecting acquisition and retention that we'll examine during this course include..." The next slides were heavy on graphs, and Steve was quickly lost; it was a graduate-level class. The actual students all seemed riveted, busily scribbling notes or tapping them out on devices.

Gabe talked right up until the buzzer signifying ten minutes until the next class, and the crowd filed out. A few students went forward, ostensibly to pick up spare syllabi from Gabe, probably really to get closer to the legend. Steve and Bucky lined up behind them, ball caps down and collars up.

"I'm afraid I'm all out, young man," Gabe said without looking up, "but I'm told you can print it off the course webpage, as well."

"Sounds good," Steve said. Gabe twitched, looked up, and broke into an enormous, crinkly smile.

"Steve! Long time no see!" He hugged Steve; Steve hugged him back carefully. Gabe straightened up again and chafed Steve's upper arms. "How've you been? How's-" he lowered his voice, "our friend?"

"See for yourself." Steve drew off to one side, revealing Bucky standing behind him, hands shoved in his jacket pockets.

Gabe covered his mouth with trembling fingers. "Holy shit," he muttered. "Holy shit. Jimmy."

"You know I hate being called that," said Bucky.

"S'why I do it," Gabe responded, a knee-jerk reflex, and then barked out a laugh. "Damn, son, Steve told me you were alive, but that ain't nothing to seeing you!" He spread his hands; Bucky hesitated for only an instant before embracing him. Gabe pounded him on the back.

"We were supposed to be the windshield, not the bugs, white boy," he said fiercely. He finally noticed Bucky's hard left arm as he disengaged, peering curiously at the exposed hand - and doing a double-take when he caught sight of the ring. He looked at Steve, who was fiddling with his own ring. His eyes widened.

"You boys didn't _just_ come by because Sarge here finally felt up to visiting, did you?"

"Not as such, no," said Steve.

"Dammit," Gabe grumbled, "when I die I owe Jacques ten bucks."

* * *

 

"Well," said Peggy briskly, "better late than never, I suppose. I'm glad to hear James made an honest man of you at last, Steve." She spent the rest of the visit talking about her grandchildren. She only repeated a couple of stories.

After Steve kissed her cheek, and Bucky shook her hand, and they left her to settle down for her afternoon nap, Bucky asked, "Should we tell someone who sees her a lot about us, too? So they don't tell her she's confused if she talks about us?"

"I wouldn't worry. She's never once breathed a word to me about her more than fifty years as director of SHIELD, even on really bad days. Whatever kind of vault she keeps the sensitive information in, the dementia hasn't touched it yet."

Bucky had a faraway look in his eyes as he said softly, "They're so far ahead of us, now. Kids, grandkids, growing old and dying... Do you think we'll get to have any of that?"

Steve interlaced his fingers with Bucky's. "I have my doubts about the aging part. In which case, there's definitely time for the other."

"Mm."

* * *

 

_TonyNo: Registrar's office let us down even sooner than we thought_

_TonyNo: Place is swarming with paps_

_TonyNo: Use the loading dock when you get back_

Tony wasn't kidding. There were helicopters. As they got closer, Steve could hear the more observant reporters shouting with recognition as he and Bucky rode by. Bucky's arms around his waist got ever tighter.

They skidded into the loading dock and the doors rolled down behind them. Natasha met them at the entrance and hustled them inside.

"Quinjet's ready whenever," she told them. "One of Hill's people is picking up some overtime to be on standby and then fly you out. Go pack for the beach."

* * *

It wasn't a _private_ island; Tony only (only!) owned half. There was a tiny village on the other side; when no one was using the beach house, one of the residents came by to check up on the place every week. They'd also stocked the kitchen with fresh food before Bucky and Steve arrived, and wouldn't be back until the delivery next week.

"There's full wireless, of course," said the pilot, "and a backup radio. Just let us know when you want to be picked up." She set them down on the helipad, and gave them a broad grin and a thumbs-up as they disembarked. "Congratulations, Captain, Sergeant!" she hollered, and then she was taking off again as soon as they were clear.

"Never let it be said there aren't perks to being friends with a Stark," said Bucky faintly.

The beach house had that Tony 'I might have been an architect if I hadn't been steeped in engineering from birth' Stark flavor to its design, looking at once uniquely stylish and like it could shrug off anything short of a missile strike. It was also clearly capable of holding a lot more than two guests, and food for eight for a week still left the kitchen looking half-bare.

"I'm not as jet-lagged as I could be," Bucky mused as they put together some sandwiches.

"You slept on the flight," Steve pointed out.

"How are _you_ doing?" They carried the platter out onto the dock, the pale blue ocean stretching out forever in front of them.

"I'll be fine until night." If he had a reason, Steve could go a disturbing length of time without sleep before he even started to feel it.

They sat on the dock, dangling their feet in the barely-cool water as they ate. Finally Bucky groaned and twisted.

"All that sitting, on the bike and the plane, my back is killing me. Think I'd better stretch it out." He started stripping right there on the dock.

"Bucky!"

Bucky grinned over his shoulder. "Private beach, remember?" He jumped off the dock with a whoop. Steve rolled his eyes and followed suit.

The water did feel fantastic. Steve wound up swimming up and down the length of the beach, relishing the chance to stretch out and work his body after all that travelling. He could see Bucky doing more or less the same thing a few metres out.

When he stopped, Steve saw Bucky just floating on his back at the end of the dock, sculling so slowly he was probably doing it just to feel the water rather than to keep afloat.

"Your balance is really good," Steve said. Bucky wasn't visibly compensating for the extra weight on his left side at all.

Bucky lifted his head. "I just discovered something."

"Yeah?"

"Watch this." Bucky stretched out his arms and went perfectly still. He didn't tip left. He lifted his right arm out of the water and tipped slightly right. He lifted his left arm out of the water and instantly sank like a stone.

He came up grinning. "It compensates underwater somehow."

Steve rubbed his head. "Huh. Guess that makes sense, being _marine_ alien tech and all." It was no crazier than the artifact taking the shape of an arm just because Bucky was nearby and had recently lost one.

"Yeah." Bucky looked fondly at his arm. "For a repurposed claw off a giant space lobster, it's a pretty good arm."

Steve swam close enough to kiss the margin between metal and skin. "More than pretty good. It helped keep you alive. I think it's beautiful."

Bucky closed his eyes at that, and Steve kissed his eyelids, then his mouth. Bucky hummed and opened up for Steve's tongue, their legs tangling where they were still treading water.

"Hey, Buck," Steve murmured into his mouth, "wanna see something cool _I_ can do?"

"What's that, doll?"

Steve took a deep breath and slipped under the surface. Bucky was only half-hard, but he firmed up fast when Steve sucked him into his mouth. Bucky's abdomen heaved, and Steve could dimly hear him cursing a blue streak as Steve bobbed his head, bracing his hands on Bucky's hips.

A couple of minutes in, Bucky started tugging worriedly at Steve's hair, but Steve gave him a reassuring pat and tried to get him to move Steve's head as he liked. Bucky's noises above the surface got louder, and he followed Steve's lead and started to properly fuck his mouth.

When he came, Bucky tightened his hands in Steve's hair and really crushed his face against his belly, which actually helped Steve swallow without getting a snootful of seawater for his trouble. He came up licking his lips and beaming.

Bucky was breathing harder than Steve was, and had clearly grabbed his own hair at some point, judging by the way it was messed up. “So, we don’t spend near enough time in swimming pools and hot tubs, if you’ve been able to do that this whole time,” he said.

Steve shrugged. “Not private ones.”

Bucky looked around at the expanse of paradise that was all theirs, and his smile spread from ear to ear. “My turn. Hold onto the dock, baby.”

The thing about Bucky, Steve remembered - dimly, with the sliver of his mind not devoted to continuing to breathe air - was that he was actually a competitive son of a bitch. He didn’t always show it around Steve, because before the serum he spent most of his time keeping Steve alive, and after the serum keeping them _both_ alive, and nowadays he mostly appeared to be competing with himself to see how many orgasms he could wring out of Steve with both of them still maintaining some semblance of social lives. But when an opportunity arose to compete with someone directly? He was all in.

He did in fact take Bucky’s suggestion and hold onto the dock for dear life, and he was glad he did when Bucky started to rub his asshole in time with the long, hard sucks on his cock. Predictably, the light touch drove Steve half out of his mind. He spread his legs and begged for more as clearly as he could with Bucky underwater and very busy.

Bucky got the message anyway, though. Bucky always knew what Steve's body needed. He'd been there when Steve _discovered_ what his body needed. He worked a metal finger (immune to pruning, always hard and smooth, always sending a special extra thrill up Steve's spine) inside, and crooked it just right, and Steve shot off like a shook-up champagne bottle.

Bucky popped out of the water more winded than Steve had been. "I don't think the Zola serum's quite up to snuff there," he panted. "Good thing you got a hot button, sweetheart."

Steve rolled his neck lazily. "Good thing."

Bucky's eyes darkened. "Holy geez. How many is it gonna be this time?"

"Enough I wanna finish on land. C'mon." Steve heaved himself up onto the dock and gathered up their clothes, tossing them just inside the kitchen before rinsing off the sand and salt at the shower outside the door. Bucky 'helped' him, running his hands over Steve's skin.

"Gonna have to stash lube everywhere, 'cause we ain't got no pockets naked," Bucky said thoughtfully. "And what's the point of a private beach if not bein' naked all the time?" He ran a possessive palm down Steve's ass, giving it a firm squeeze. Steve leaned into him, needing kisses. Bucky seemed happy to oblige.

Steve wound up backed against the tiled wall of the shower alcove, with Bucky's tongue in his mouth and Bucky's hand on his dick. Bucky's other hand cupped his balls and then massaged behind them, a tease so wicked Steve gasped into Bucky's mouth. When Bucky rubbed that spot a little harder, Steve broke the kiss by tipping his head back and moaning aloud.

"Yeah, babydoll, your ass knows what it's missing, don't it? You want some petting on the inside, wanna be stretched and filled, ain't that right?" Steve whined and nodded.

Bucky bent his head to Steve's neck, sucking in the hollow beside his jaw and nipping at the corded tendons. He sped up his hand on Steve's cock. "Gonna give it to you next, darlin', cross my heart. Get you somewhere soft and dry, and fuck you with my fingers 'til you can't remember how to do anything but lie there and _take_ it, love, take it for me so fuckin' sweet." Steve spread his legs; he wanted that _now_ , he wanted to take it _now_.

Bucky knew; the filthy delight was clear in his voice as he said, "Like the best present in the whole world I get to have again and again, watching you go off for me, knowing I'm _making_ you- yeah, _yeah_." Bucky kissed his mouth again as Steve came in his hand, then held Steve up with his other arm around his waist while he licked his fingers clean of anything the shower didn't wash away.

He kept his arm around Steve's waist as he shut off the shower and grabbed a couple of towels off the nearby shelf. "So hot we'll air dry soon enough, but that looked like awful nice fabric on the couch inside, and by the time I'm done with you, baby boy, you're gonna be a _mess_ ," he promised as they went indoors, past the kitchen and into the sitting area that faced the ocean, open sliding glass doors between the plush furniture and a deck with a raised firepit. He draped the towels over a couch just in time for Steve to crawl on top of them and roll onto his back, lifting his hips at Bucky.

"What you said," Steve pleaded, "I want that."

Bucky looked desperately around the room, leaping for their bags as soon as he caught sight of them. He came back triumphant, brandishing lube.

"I packed so much of this stuff," he confessed. "Didn't sound like there's much in the way of drugstores out here."

"So did I," admitted Steve. He squirmed.

Bucky looked curious. "What?"

"I also, um." Steve felt himself turn beet red, then blurted out, "I also packed the stuff we'd need, for- for you to maybe gimme your fist again sometime."

Bucky's mouth fell open. "You _hated_ getting clean for that!"

Steve looked away and said, "Yeah, but you made it worth my while." Because he wasn't looking at Bucky, it took him by surprise when Bucky jumped him.

"Goddamn," Bucky said in between fervent kisses, "Goddamn, that is the hottest fucking thing, love. Holy shit, I feel like I'm gonna die just thinking about it." He pulled back a little. "Not today, okay? I can't handle it today."

"No, not today," Steve said quickly. Last time they'd just had a near-death experience, and then practically gotten married in their kitchen (and come to think of it, Bucky had proposed actual marriage immediately after). He'd needed the whole next day to pull himself together. Today it would be entirely too much.

"Another day," Bucky said, so full of heated promise that Steve shivered. He slicked up his metal fingers and reached straight for Steve's ass. Steve spread his knees as best he could on the couch, sighing gratefully when Bucky slipped right into him.

“There you go, doll, I got you,” Bucky crooned, taking ahold of Steve’s cock again and giving him another finger. “Fuck, _fuck_ , you feel good, you kinda - you kinda open up and _cling_ at the same time, oh my God, Stevie.” He curled his fingers to touch Steve’s prostate, and Steve rushed up to the edge so fast he was breathless and staring, trying to hold on for more than a few seconds.

“Nothing. There is _nothing_ as good as this, as good as you, baby, you’re the best,” and oh, that wasn’t _fair_ , those words mashed buttons inside Steve’s brain even hotter than the one inside his body, and he lost it right there, dick jerking in Bucky’s hand before it was even all the way hard again.

As soon as he could move he flipped them so he could grind against Bucky, sliding in the shallow groove of his hip, careful of Bucky’s still-soft dick. Bucky kept his metal fingers working in Steve’s ass, and his right hand on the back of Steve’s neck.

“I wasn’t ready that time,” Steve complained, “I wanted to last a bit longer.”

Bucky laughed. “That’s, what, three now? You’ll get your wish yet, sweetheart.”

He would; Steve could already feel sated sluggishness trying to flood him, slow him down. Two was his usual; three was real nice. Anything more than that was a special occasion, something he had to push for. Or _get_ pushed for; Bucky got him to six last week, with his fist. Steve thought it was six, anyway; he'd not had a lot of higher brain function at the time.

And this line of thinking was _not_ helping him last any longer now! Steve started humping against Bucky, who twinkled at him as if he knew what Steve had been thinking about. “Just like old times,” he said warmly.

“What?” asked Steve, distracted by the feel of Bucky’s sparse, dark body hair against his dick; it was really soft.

“Like back when we were kids. You needed a long time to get hard what with your heart, and then usually a long time to get off, at least until I got up the nerve to fuck you with more than my fingers. Used to lie just like this, remember?” Bucky rubbed his thumb against the back of Steve’s neck.

And Steve did remember: long spring afternoons, hiding from the pollen, making out and rubbing their skinny bodies together on Steve’s mom’s couch, and then later in the tiny apartment they’d moved into together. Steve had wanted Bucky’s cock inside him so bad; he used to drive himself nuts trying to figure out how to get Bucky to do it. And yet what they had was thrillingly good already, the best thing Steve had ever felt, the slide of skin on skin and the endlessly careful, wondering touch of Bucky’s fingers in his ass, as if he couldn’t quite believe Steve wanted it even as Steve panted and moaned and begged for more.

Bucky was scarred and solid now, old with more than time and so, so strong, and there was confidence in his fingers that there wasn’t back then, a knowledge of Steve that he’d been building ever since those lazy, sunshine-filled days. Steve was hardly the same person, either, and yet here they were again. It was a hell of a thing.

Steve kissed him, burrowing in close and flexing his ass to keep up the grind, trusting Bucky not to let up with his hand. A glowing, leisurely pleasure spread through him like syrup. “Keep touching me, Buck,” he murmured, encouragement like he’d given once upon a time. “I really like it.”

Bucky made a plaintive groan and worked his fingers deeper. “I can see that, doll. Just lights you up, don’t it?” Steve caught his breath and nodded shyly, playing it up, keeping the game going. “I like it well enough myself, but not the way you do. Look atcha, all stretched out on two fingers. I bet - geez, I bet you’d like three even better.”

“Oh, Bucky, yes!” Steve’s mouth dropped open as a third finger penetrated him, and his cheeks went hot. He rolled his hips harder, and Bucky kept pace with him, pressing deep.

“Is this okay, baby?” Bucky said, clearly trying not to bust out laughing. There was nothing shy about the thick slide of his fingers in and out of Steve’s hole, a counterpoint to the innocence of the ghostly conversation.

“Yeah,” Steve ground out. This was getting to him, silly as it was. What would he say next, what did he used to say next? He used to have to talk all the time, because Bucky didn’t know him inside-out, upside-down, and backwards, not yet, and so Steve had to use his words. “Oh!” he gasped as Bucky stroked into his sweet spot, and that jarred something loose. “Oh, Bucky, I wish it was your cock. I wish you’d - f-fuck me,” he stammered.

Bucky’s fingers jerked. “Are you sure? What if I hurt you? You’re so small, pretty baby-”

“-I will sock you one in the nose right here-”

“I couldn’t stand it if I hurt you, Stevie. You understand, don’t you?”

“ _No_ ,” Steve whined, “I’m takin’ your fingers just fine, ain’t I? I want it, I want it,” he chanted, rocking in the groove of Bucky’s hip, slick now with precome, and then stilled as if he’d just gotten the idea. “What if I fucked you first?”

Bucky hummed thoughtfully. “You _are_ bigger than me there. That ain’t a bad idea, sweetheart.”

“And then you’ll give me yours, right?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you crazy punk. I guess then it’d be okay for me to put my dick in you. Can’t _believe_ that’s what you want.”

“It is, it is.” Steve shoved back against Bucky’s fingers, and then forward against his hip, rutting greedily, triumphantly, and finally spent himself against Bucky’s skin with the kind of long grunt he’d not had the lungs for, back when something like this exchange happened the first time.

“It still is,” he said quietly to Bucky’s neck. _You still are._

Bucky hugged him with the arm that wasn’t down by Steve’s ass. “I know, baby. And you’ll get it again, I promise. You know I keep my promises.”

Steve shifted, finally becoming aware of just how much come and sweat was smeared between them. “You sure do. I’m a mess.”

* * *

 

Right after the Chitauri invasion, Steve took off on a motorcycle for a solo road trip. It was the first vacation he’d ever had as an adult. It was alright; it was what he needed at the time.

Honeymooning with Bucky was much, much better. Steve had never spent so much time naked. He’d never been so well-fucked.

He woke up almost every morning to one of them priming the other up, in their sleep or no. They worked their way through three morning meals, usually feeding at least some to each other, which if it didn’t end in more sex right then, culminated in a nooner before or after lunch (usually before). They went swimming or boating (they found the boat house on their second day) around the island in the afternoons. Some days they made it to the village on the other side, with its tiny cafe and corner store, and other days they just bundled some snacks into the boat and dropped anchor in one of the little coves on the coast. In the evenings, Bucky put on an apron to make something for supper (“not interested in burning the goods, if you know what I mean”) before working Steve over so thoroughly he usually dropped off wherever they were.

When the serum cured all his ailments in one fell swoop, Steve had felt staggered by the pervasive wellbeing he was left with, in the absence of dozens of aches and pains and drains on his energy. This was a little bit like that; he felt saturated with pleasure, soaked in it until every cell in his body was full to bursting. Bucky went around with a permanent 'just-got-laid' swagger and a goofy smile.

It was worlds, _galaxies_ , better than skulking about in New York while the press howled for Bucky, as if they had some right to him. Taking off was _such_ a good idea.

* * *

 

They got a text encouraging them to call the Tower and check in. Bruce picked up. He smiled oddly, and avoided looking directly at the screen as he said, "How's paradise?"

"Paradisiacal. How's the team?" Steve asked. The team chorused their hellos over Bruce's shoulder; Steve must have called in right at Sunday dinner.

"The team's good."

Distantly, Tony ordered, "Tell 'em about the press conference!"

"Oh, yes. So, Pepper held a press conference, where she smiled a lot, and told quite a few lies of omission, and basically implied she would end anyone who approached either of you or tried to investigate James."

"Tasha stood behind her, practically cracking her knuckles," Clint called, "It was beautiful."

"She didn't have to do that," said Bucky uncomfortably.

"I gather SHIELD did pretty much the same thing for Cap when he first came out of the ice." Steve blinked; he'd wondered sometimes about his quiet return to private life, especially after seeing the Smithsonian exhibit. The uniform and shield - and the times he had neither - helped, but it didn't completely explain how rarely he'd been accosted.

"The horse!" Sam yelled, "Tell 'em about the horse!"

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "After the press conference, some country music star was hospitalized following a failed attempt to, uh, have relations with a horse. He's pretty famous, and he is - or was - dating an even more famous actress, so I guess you guys are old news."

"Horse says 'no means no'!" Sam chortled.

"The upshot is, you can come home whenever you're ready."

"Good to know, Bruce, thanks. We'll let you all know when that is."

Bruce smiled that odd smile again. "Oh," he murmured, "take your time." He cleared his throat and said in a more normal tone. "I'll tell everyone you said hi."

It wasn't until Bruce cut the video feed that Steve realized neither he nor Bucky was wearing anything at all.

* * *

 

One day, Steve ate a light breakfast, went for a long, early swim until all his muscles felt heavy with satisfied fatigue, and then took himself off to the bathroom.

Bucky was reading on the couch when Steve got out, but he set down the tablet and looked up when he noticed Steve bouncing on his toes expectantly. “You look like a man with a plan,” he commented.

“I am,” Steve replied, tugging Bucky into the bedroom. “I just finished getting all cleaned up.”

“That’s nice?”

Steve picked up Bucky’s metal hand and licked the fingertips. “ _All_ cleaned up,” he said meaningfully.

Bucky swallowed hard.

He spent the whole morning taking Steve apart, sucking his cock and opening him up so slowly Steve lost count of his orgasms, let alone the number of fingers inside him. By the time Bucky curled his fingers into a fist, to say Steve was having orgasms would imply he was getting chances to come down. It was more like he was floating, bobbing on waves of sensation Bucky sent through him with every hushed word of praise, every twist and push of his unyielding hand.

Steve came back to himself slowly, in bits and pieces. When he felt like a person again, as opposed to a quivering puddle, he was lying with his head in Bucky's lap, being fed chunks of cold fruit.

"Hey," Bucky said softly, "anybody home yet?"

Steve tilted his head, scrubbing his hair against Bucky's stomach. Words were entirely beyond him.

He didn't feel like talking for the rest of the day, just lazed around in the sun on the sofa, and in the shade on one of the beach hammocks. Bucky stuck to him like glue, reading next to Steve with snacks, water, and a free hand idly rubbing whatever part of Steve's body was closest. This suited Steve right down to the ground. He felt bigger than his skin, like some tender inner layer was on the outside, and anything more than drifting at the end of Bucky's tether would be too much for him to bear.

As they turned in, Steve finally bestirred himself to say, "Thank you."

Bucky was silent for a long moment, then said slowly, "The way you want me, does me more good, than all our revenge killings combined."

Steve tucked his shoulder into Bucky's warm right armpit. "Bombings too?"

Bucky kissed the top of Steve's head. "Bombings too."

* * *

 

“Holy shit,” said Bucky suddenly, “I forgot about your freckles!”

“Wha?” Steve’s head was hanging between his arms, elbows locked. He was on his hands and knees on the deck, Bucky fucking him from behind. His grip on Steve’s hips was definitely going to bruise for at least an hour.

“Freckles,” Bucky repeated, not letting up the thrusts that had their skin slapping together. “I forgot about ‘em. _Regular_ forgot.”

“Not- nngh! - not surprised,” Steve managed. “Need a lot of- of- oh! Bucky! Just like that, yeah!” Bucky nailed his sweet spot while Steve came, so that his moans turned into yelps. Finally he slowed his rhythm a bit, twisting sideways so that his cock rubbed Steve at an angle as he slid in. “Need a lot of sun for them to show,” Steve panted, breaking into an overstimulated sweat.

“You do, I remember now,” said Bucky. “Ain’t had ‘em since before we started working, and back then you were burnt half the time instead.” They’d practically lived outside in the summers when they were little, running themselves ragged.

“Gonna burn up _now_.” Steve really felt like he might just catch fire from the way Bucky was giving it to him, deep and slow and _teasing_ , filling him up but going out of his way to avoid Steve’s prostate.

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” Bucky shifted his grip on Steve’s hips and started hammering straight in again, fast and forceful and perfectly on target. Perks of being married to a sniper, Steve thought crazily. “Damn, they’re gorgeous; you’re gorgeous, babydoll. You look like someone sprinkled you with cinnamon, some sweet treat all ready to get eaten up, pretty as a picture from your big wide shoulders all the way down to your tight little round ass, all opened up for me.”

Steve dropped to his elbows and tilted his ass up, trying to splay himself wider, get more of Bucky inside him. Bucky wheezed like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“Oh, baby boy, why’d you have to do that?” he lamented, thrusts speeding up. “I can’t hold on, sweetheart, it’s too much, it is _impossible_ for you to be this good and not make me come, just wanna feel you one more time, do it for me, love, wanna feel you _squeezing_ me-” and Steve had been hanging on by a thread as it was; Bucky’s words made him throw back his head and yowl as Bucky slammed home, heat spreading in Steve’s ass while Steve clenched around him.

“I could really go for some French toast,” said Bucky. “With icing sugar and cinnamon, whaddya say?”

Steve groaned.

* * *

 

Bucky found some poles and tackle in the bowels of the house, and got it into his head that he wanted to learn to fish.

Steve was _appalled_ at how boring it was. It was worse than _church_. He said as much to Bucky, who scoffed.

"You'd make a terrible sniper." He fiddled some more with the holders, bolted to the edges of the boat, meant to keep the poles upright.

"That would be why I don't _snipe_ ; I run up to people and smack them around with a shield."

"Why combatants the world over haven't picked up the technique remains a mystery," Bucky observed dryly.

Steve shrugged. "It works for me."

"You should talk to Thor sometime about his theory of weapon affinity; he gave me a whole speech about my arm and why I can use it."

"When was this?"

"At the wedding. I think he'd had a few." Bucky finally got the fishing poles affixed how he wanted them, then sat down with a satisfied grunt and cracked a beer.

"Ah," declared Steve, "the true purpose of fishing reveals itself!"

"Damn straight." Bucky held out another bottle for him. "You sound like your sugar's dipping; have some liquid bread."

Steve sat down beside him. Most of his attitude was just a put-on, but the beer was still refreshing.

By the time Steve was finished, Bucky was leaning back, looking up at the sky, a pleased curve to his slack mouth. The curve deepened when he noticed Steve staring, but he kept looking up.

Steve's hand reached out almost of its own volition; he brushed a finger over Bucky's plush lips, sucking in a breath when Bucky took it into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around it, then hollowed his cheeks and sucked it lazily.

Steve's dick rapidly took an interest in the proceedings; it knew how wet and warm and snug Bucky's mouth was, wanted some of that suction for itself. Steve mentally admonished it to wait its turn for once; he was doing something here.

He tugged his finger free with a soft pop, then reached down and rubbed Bucky's nipple with his wet fingertip. The flat little round darkened as it pebbled up. Steve stuck his finger in Bucky's mouth again - Bucky now watching him avidly as he licked - then brought it back to his nipple. Bucky arched into the touch this time, humming. On the third pass, his quiet noises turned into words. Steve was surprised it took that long.

"That feels real nice, babe," he said, "s'funny, such a little thing, but you're getting me so hot with it."

"Yeah?" Steve got his finger wet one more time, and this time as he touched Bucky's one nipple, he straddled Bucky's hips and reached for the other with his other hand, rolling it between thumb and forefinger.

"Yeah," Bucky breathed, undulating under Steve. "Love it when you come on to me, doll."

"Really? I couldn't tell," Steve teased; Bucky was even harder than him.

"Funny guy," Bucky grunted, shoving up against him. "Should put that smart mouth of yours to work."

"You mean like this?" Steve winked and shuffled back, then licked a long stripe up Bucky's cock. He was still salty from splashing around getting the boat ready earlier.

"Ohh, baby, just like that," Bucky groaned. He turned his face back to the sky. "I actually can't look at your pretty pink lips on me, sweetheart, or I'm gonna lose it right quick."

Steve licked said lips and kissed the head of Bucky's cock, letting it push his mouth open as he sank down.

"Steve, Stevie, spin around, lemme do something," Bucky begged. Steve did as he asked, twisting himself around to bring his cock in line with Bucky's mouth. Bucky lunged for Steve with a grateful, quickly-muffled moan.

Having a task might be helping Bucky's focus, but it was wreaking havoc on Steve's. His ass was such a hot zone for him, he sometimes forgot how much he loved Bucky's cock in his mouth, too: blood-hot and smooth on his tongue, nudging bluntly into the back of his throat. Bucky was the perfect size for Steve to have to swallow around him _just_ a little, just enough to feel how _there_ he was, in order to get all of him.

It turned Steve on, all by itself, was the point, and then with Bucky at the other end, slurping and suckling and making little grunts like he was dying of thirst and Steve was a popsicle...

Well. It wasn't long before Steve had to let go of Bucky for fear of clenching his teeth, and dug his forehead into Bucky's thigh while he rode out an orgasm.

Bucky looked almost painfully hard. Steve took mercy on him and gulped him down again. A few strokes with the flat of his tongue and Bucky was coming too, the vibration of his sighs around Steve's softening cock making Steve twitch.

Finally Steve let Bucky go, and heaved himself up and off, rolling to one side. It really was a beautiful blue sky.

Bucky twisted to lie perpendicular to Steve, resting his head on Steve's belly. His loose hair flopped over Steve's dick. It was warm from the sun, heavy and soft. It was, Steve realized to his mortification, turning him on again.

Bucky must have felt the shift near his ear. "Hm?" He rolled his head to look out the corner of his eye at Steve's hardon, hair draped over it like the world's worst toupee. He snickered.

"'Cut it or don't, Buck; it's all the same to me.'" He quoted with relish.

"Shaddup," Steve muttered, "Like I'm gonna tell anybody what to do with their hair." Especially when Bucky's was only grown out because his life hadn't been his own for so long; the fact that Steve thought it suited him better than he could have imagined was beside the point.

"That's right," Bucky said with immense fondness, "you wouldn't." Before Steve could object, Bucky gathered up a fistful of dark reddish-brown strands and started jacking Steve off with it.

"Bucky!"

" _Only_ because I can jump out of the boat and rinse before it dries," Bucky warned, as if Steve was able to process anything with his cock surrounded by clouds of fluffy silk, rubbing him in a way that was completely unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It was an unlooked-for fulfillment of what was possibly the most perverted, and certainly the newest, of Steve's fantasies.

Bucky's hair wasn't so long that he could really move his hand freely, but the sheer fact that he was doing it at all was shockingly arousing. Steve's hands were white-knuckled fists at his sides, and in short order he was blowing like a racehorse, trembling on the edge.

"Only you, doll," Bucky said, still with that enormous affection in his voice, "only you could look me in the eye and ask for my metal fist up your ass - _twice_ \- and still be too shy to 'fess up to wanting my hair on your dick."

Steve's hips jumped helplessly. It seemed like he could feel every individual strand sliding over his skin, each one alive with Bucky's energy.

"I might be particular about the time and place, mind," Bucky went on, "but I doubt very much, love, that there is _anything_ you're capable of asking me for, that I wouldn't be pleased as punch to give."

"Same - goes - for you," Steve bit out, and Bucky tightened his grip suddenly and that was it, Steve was a goner, soaking down Bucky's hair, and Bucky wasn't kidding; the moment Steve finished, he was up and over the side of the boat with a splash.

"If this doesn't work," Bucky called, "you're washing it for me!"

* * *

 

The second Saturday they were there, Steve wasn't allowed on the north end of the beach. Bucky had been taking solo trips around to the village for a couple of days beforehand. Steve had a pretty good idea what Bucky was up to, but he kept his head down; Bucky always did love to surprise him.

And truth be told, the scope of the fireworks display Bucky had managed to mail-order, and then set up himself, was pretty impressive. They sat together on a beach blanket, munching on pineapple cake and watching the little rockets explode in showers of sparks.

"Can't have your birthday without fireworks," Bucky said, "wouldn't be right."

A trio popped in red, white, and blue. Steve said, "This is the one. I wasn't supposed to see thirty."

"I know," Bucky said quietly. Concentric yellow and green circles suggested a flower. "Do you think you would've taken that crazy bastard's offer without knowing that?"

"Erskine was good people," Steve protested mildly; he didn't want to dig up that old argument right now. "And yeah, I think I would've. I'd been sick and fighting my whole life anyway. And you were going over there." A rocket left a glittering trail behind it almost from the ground, describing a steep arc then blinking out on the descent. "I might've thought a little harder, maybe."

"At all, you mean." Bucky made the dig almost dutifully. Steve didn't even bother responding, preferring to watch the show.

The last few fireworks were the biggest, each one going off several times in series, booms echoing across the water and flashes dazzling Steve's eyes. Finally there was nothing left but a haze of smoke, and some ash drifting in the surf. They walked back to the beach house, ears ringing.

Their bedroom seemed very dark after that. Steve went to his duffle, digging under the items he'd never bothered to unpack. "I got you a surprise, too."

"It's not _my_ birthday." Bucky sounded confused.

"No, but. Thirty." Bucky saw what Steve had in his hands and froze. Steve held out the stethoscope, starting to feel silly. "You said, one time, that you wanted to take one of these and just-"

"-and just listen," Bucky finished for him. "I said that right before I fucked you in front of a _mirror_ , Steve!"

Steve shrugged. "I still heard you." He rocked on his feet. "So, do you want, or-?"

Bucky took it from him and kissed him soundly. "Oh, I want." He guided Steve down to lie on his back - not exactly the sitting position Steve used to get examined in, but then he and the examiner usually weren't naked either.

Bucky knelt at his side and put in the earpieces. He twitched immediately. "Geez, they definitely didn't have super-hearing in mind when they made these."

"Is it gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, just don't talk once it's on you," Bucky decided. He reached for Steve with the bell and Steve went as still as he could. "But still _breathe_ , doll, that's the whole point." Steve started taking deep, slow breaths, ears burning.

He felt less silly when Bucky gasped as he finally laid the bell on Steve's chest. He was forcibly reminded of the first time Bucky got him alone after Austria, wanting to see and touch every part of Steve that didn't hurt anymore, that wasn't slowly killing him (or could at any time give out and kill him quickly).

He kept breathing as Bucky moved the bell around, focusing on pulling air right down to the bases of his lungs. He could imagine what Bucky was hearing: the roar of air moving freely back and forth, not a wheeze or crackle to be found.

Bucky actually whimpered, just once and so quietly Steve wasn't sure he knew he'd done so, when he settled the bell over Steve's heart. The serum replaced the missing valve, and repaired the muscle damage from the rheumatic fever, that together were the main reason Steve had been so _very_ short and thin. There was no more swish of blood circling uselessly, just the clean lub-dub of a strong, whole pump working away. Steve had listened to this himself, when he was cooling his heels, giving up pints of blood to the SSR.

Finally Bucky must have had his fill of listening, because he took the earpieces out and placed the stethoscope on the nightstand. He laid a reverent little kiss on Steve's chest, and then Steve could be still no more and pulled him up to kiss his mouth.

Bucky surged into it, abruptly passionate. He swept his tongue around the inside of Steve's mouth, then drew Steve's into his and sucked on it vigorously. Steve moaned and drew up his knees, letting one fall to the side.

"God," Bucky muttered, grinding their erections together, "I may need to do that again, the next time you pull some damn fool stunt that scares me half outta my skin."

"I don't-" Steve started to say, but then Bucky reached for his ass, having apparently conjured lube out of nowhere. "Yeah, okay," Steve said vaguely as a slick finger circled and entered him; he must have been feeding off Bucky's evident, urgent need, because the way he opened up was fast even for him.

Bucky was shaking slightly as he stretched Steve with two, then three fingers. "Steve," he murmured, "baby, can I, I need-"

"Do it, I want you to," Steve said, tilting his hips. Bucky got himself lined up, and then he was driving in, interlacing his fingers with Steve's and pressing them back into the mattress. There was only dim moonlight in the room; everything was the feel and smell of Bucky's skin, the sound of them moving together, and Bucky's voice:

"Keep you like this forever if I could, sweetheart. Spread you out, hold you down, get _inside_ you. Oh, darlin', you feel _amazing_. You amaze me."

"You," Steve argued, clasping Bucky's hands harder even as he tugged to feel the strength of Bucky's arms, arching up to feel the smooth roll of Bucky's body as he fucked in and in and _in_.

"God," Bucky said, high and breathless, "I'm so fuckin' close, babydoll, are you close? You're leakin' on me like you're close."

"I- yeah," Steve managed, rutting up against Bucky every time he thrust in, pressing into Steve hard and slow before pulling up to do it again.

"Can you do it without bein' touched, do you think? Can you pop if I just touch you inside, love, right - _here_ \- " Bucky grunted with effort as he rubbed up against Steve's sweet spot with a series of short thrusts until Steve seized up and came, his vision lighting up with more fireworks. As soon as Steve tensed up Bucky convulsed, muffling his groans against Steve's neck.

If it hadn't happened to him, Steve reflected, he would not have believed the story of his life, of Bucky's life. He'd have called it too far-fetched by half. The idea that all of it (so far) had happened in just thirty years (for him) was just the crazy icing on the crazy cake.

Bucky was already stirring. "Sweet Jesus, babe, you're _filthy_ ," he said with delight, "lemme clean you up, doll, I can't let you stay like this." He started moving down Steve's body, hot tongue licking all the way.

"Happy birthday to me," Steve mumbled, grabbing the headboard for support.

* * *

 

The next day they got another request to make a video call - this time to Sam's apartment.

Sam had his eyes covered when his face came up on screen. "You boys dressed this time?"

"Yes," Bucky grumbled. It felt kind of strange to be wearing clothes, honestly. The only other times they'd worn them in almost two weeks were for the grocery deliveries, and to go into the village.

"Thank God," said Sam fervently. "I've seen enough of you two naked to last a lifetime.  No offense."

"None taken. How are things in New York?" Steve asked.

"That's why I got you to call; things are getting weird again. There are rumours of a possible HYDRA cell in Toronto. Clint got mixed up in a feud between some deaf Serbians, and Natasha's making us all take turns babysitting him since you two aren't here. Oh, and Lady Sif is apparently _courting_ me!" Sam's voice rose steadily throughout this account; by the end he sounded as worked up as Steve had ever heard him.

"So, you need us to come home," said Bucky.

Sam nodded gratefully.

"Send the jet," said Steve.

"Will do." Sam cut the connection.

Steve looked around the breezy, sunlit interior of the beach house, then out the double doors at the white sand and blue, blue water of the beach. "I'm gonna miss this place."

"We still got a few hours to kill," Bucky said, already struggling out of his shirt. "I dunno about you, but I know how _I_ wanna spend 'em." He advanced on Steve with gleaming eyes.

"Good plan," said Steve, and dropped his pants.

 


End file.
